


For Another Day

by tanyart



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Community: mundane_bingo, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanyart/pseuds/tanyart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair catches Malik sleeping in the library.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Naps in the middle of the day. Written for the [mundane_bingo](http://mundane-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) community.

Altair found Malik in the library, which wasn’t a strange thing in and of itself, but it was such an incongruous spot, tucked away into a corner amongst a pile of cushions and beneath a stained glass window. He would have never spotted him if it hadn’t been for a gap between the books while he weaved around the enormous shelves.

“There you are,” Altair said, coming around, and was surprised when the slumbering man did not stir. He hesitated, his first instinct to raise his voice and repeat himself, but his mouth clamped down on its own violation and he said no more. Squatting down, he peered into Malik’s face, looking for signs of over exhaustion. They were all tired, really, but it was in the middle of the day and there was so much to do since Al-Mualim’s death. Unless the circles under Malik’s eyes had gone a shade darker or his lips a little bit more dry, Altair could not spare him, and he was sorry that it was so.

He let the seconds slip by, indulging in the idea that maybe each fleeting moment would help in some way. The colored sunlight from the window was pleasant and warm against his back and Altair supposed he couldn’t blame Malik for falling asleep like this with an opened book in his lap, index finger curled over the lettering as if marking a spot.

Ten extra seconds, no more than that. Altair placed his hand on Malik’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Malik, wake up,” he said, not loud, but still firm and unrepentant.

The effect was not immediate; Malik woke slowly, his cheek coming to brush over Altair’s hand as he turned to face him. He opened his eyes, unfocused and unthinking, and looked upon Altair with a smile so open and sweet that Altair wondered what it was Malik saw through the haze of his lingering dreams.

“Wake up,” he repeated, and meant his tone to be sharp, but it had inexplicably fallen into a low murmur, threatening to lull the other man back to sleep.

“Altair,” Malik replied, still with that damnably foolish smile, and was roused by the sound of his own voice. He tensed and blinked, gaze sharpening and becoming focused. His expression cleared, smile disappearing in an instant to be replaced by an unhappy frown.

Altair withdrew his hand from Malik’s shoulder, balancing on his heels while he waited for him to get his bearings.

“How long was I asleep?” Malik asked, yawning and grounding the palm of his hand into his eyes. 

“I do not know,” Altair said, catching the book that had started to slip from his lap. He yawned too, unable to help himself, and held out the book. “I haven’t seen you since this morning.”

“And now the whole fortress will be up in arms, searching for the both us,” Malik remarked dryly. He stood up, straightening his robes with a cursory sweep of his hand before taking the book. His thumb rubbed over the soft leather cover, a wry twist to his lips. “The Calixtinus is difficult enough to read with a well-rested mind. Should you ever get to writing your own codex, I hope that it isn’t as dull.”

Altair got to his feet, a small laugh escaping from him. “Shall I draw more pictures?”

And there was that smile again—perhaps not as bright or pure, and definitely more hitched at one corner—but even the faintest trace of it made Malik appear less worn out.

“If you do, I will be inclined to laugh at them,” he said, and Altair thought it wasn’t such a bad idea, but there was work to do and a multitude of things to recover and run before the day’s end. The time for sleeping and drawing had to wait.

Altair’s hand twitched at his side, longing to reach out, but it was Malik who beat him to it. 

“Come,” he said, putting the book back on the shelf, and brushed against Altair, a solid, warm presence in the midst of a constant fatigue that plagued both of them. “What is today’s business?”

“Ah,” Altair said, suddenly remembering. “Being late, for one. All the bureau leaders are assembled in the courtyard—“

“Oh,” Malik said, as if the same thought just occurred to him as well.

They glanced at each other, pausing only to utter the same curse, and ran out of the library, ready to tackle the rest of the long day together.


End file.
